Speaking doctors

    The new year strikes in fourty minutes. So when we write the date tomorrow, we'd write 2011 and then overwrite the eleven. Looking back, it has been an amazing year. January .   The first month of year three. I still remember how weird we had felt. Me, Ainee, Amber and the rest. The only one with a confident start was Anwar. Nothing can shake him. We were blessed with raw interns (who by the end of the year are shining like diamonds). Admissions, rush calls, leading a team. We sailed through and with Ainee along in private wing, we laughed away. Then there was the resident's appreciation evening. Those sarcastic skits. I read the news (this my continuous second year doing so). 'If I read the news in the next year's resident night you could call me Shaista Zaid then', I had said to  Dr Imran (cardiology). February Cardiology night float. Ecgs and more ecgs. March and April ICU rotation. A different world altogether.We celebrated passing A lines, centr

  Day one of orientation. A three day event to get the new people oriented to the new system called AKUH. I smile and turn around to see if anyone else listens intently to the sarcasm of the song, but nobody is smiling. All new interns, residents and fellows accumulate in the auditorium. For all important events (and to impress newcomers) a background music is played which is an instrumental mix of popular Pakistani songs. As I enter I hear the following song’s music, “Chalay to cut hi jaay ga safar, aahista, aahista”. I smile and turn around to see if anyone else listens intently to the sarcasm of the song, but nobody is smiling. They all look pleased to be selected in this institute and seem to concentrate on nothing else. It starts officially. The first presenter, with the most interesting voice starts, “Welcome to the AKUH family!”. All that goes in my mind is that I’ve to report at ER front and am getting late. I leave the auditorium and the self praise . I already have the ti

May it all be peaceful. 25th December. A day of many an important events. A day a jalsa is planned. Jalsa in the city of lights. A city filled with all ethinicities. A city with Sindhis, Pathans, Balochis, Muhajirs, Panjabis…. They all live together in harmony and the leaders make them lock horns as and when they require. The rich getting richer, the poor poorer. On one end there are those without the basic necessities of life and on the other the other divide living a lavish life. But for how long. Things wont correct on their own or would they. One simple rule. Correct yourself. Be honest. Remind yourself that there is someone  watching. There constantly is. How will we answer. What will we answer. The explanation will be lame. There will be no turning back from then on. What’s done would be done. No replays no undos.   The Jalsa And then when a Jalsa is arranged in the city of lights people like myself get worried. May it all be peaceful. Who wins at the end doesn’t really ma

"OK from now on I will" . While in Bournemouth Hajra told me on return that she met an African muslim who asked her if she prayed and when she replied in the affirmative he told her that he liked people who prayed. A few days elapsed. On the way to cafetaria we met this chap again. This time around I was introduced as well. After a few minutes of where you are from and why, he asked me the same question. He later said, "But I pray all my zuhr, asar and maghrib prayers cumulatively on my return home". "But there is a place specially arranged within the chapel for us muslims, why don't you pray there?", I couldn't help but inquire. "But God will be angry if I pray within the chapel", he explained. "But God would be more angry if you miss prayers, and the place has been specially arranged for us, there is no reason why you shouldn't be praying", I went on. To this he replied, "OK from now on I will". A few

Preview Postcall. Very postcall. Finally had a better call. The last two were terribly busy. And now am supposed to come 12 hours later again. Welcome to ER episode three it is. Nothing interesting happened. Four CCU admissions, two chronic myeloid leukemias now with fever, high blood pressures and sugars. Two doctors, one small, one large. As boring as it could get. Docs and the delicious One of the docs in ER is supposed to go to a breakfast at 'barbecue tonight'. How can one get excited about going to a breakfast. Getting dressed, perked up and ready for a hearty meal. Most likely for things like halwa puri and parathas. My father was once invited for breakfast with 'paay'. He didnot go. He had never had such a thing for breakfast and did not plan to break rules. Qaum say khitab and chappal While in the doctors lounge as I yaked away (and a few listened intently, or so I believed), one of the (female) doctors said, "All I have been do

A day off in the middle of the week is just crazy. A day of nothingness. Waking up at two means that now your head aches because of lying prone for so long. You are not sure whether to lunch or breakfast. The rest of the family continues with their routine. You seem just awestruck. Slightly encephalopathic. Power failure again. I drag myself with my cup of tea and my unfinished novel, 'Eve Green',  towards the bench. The sun decides to glare right into my face. A powerful one. I reconnect with the novel from where I had left it. A novel about a redhead whose mother decides to die and now the redhead, Evangeline is left to bear with her grandparents in the country. A tale told with childlike excitement and naievity . Evangeline, an interesting name. A name that men just get entangled into. A day off in the middle of the week is just crazy. I have to remind myself that its Tuesday. That I don't have to wake up early. Tomorrow its day duty again. Now how can one wake up

Arif (my brother) told me that I HAVE to write a post today. So ladies and gentleman, here it is. Bhai kee farmaish. Its five am and I am in ER. In front as usual. One of our fellow residents cleared her intermediate module exam and ordered pizza. Pizza was ordered form 'Ginoginelles'. Fahad usually orders it and he either really likes the food or he gets some sort of commision out of it. We had ordered the same food yesterday as well. "How is it?", he asked. "Bus theek hay (its ok)", I had responded. " Now what does theek mean, good or bad?", Fahad probed. It was then that Dr Samia chipped in, " Theek bus theek hota hay, na acha hota hay na bura, bus theek (ok is just ok, neither good nor bad)".Fahad rested his case.

I wasn’t really interested to begin with. But then thought, oh what the hell, it may be worth a sight. Welcome to ER. Welcome to a different world altogether. There is a front and a back. A back is called back because its behind front. Front is called front because its in front of back. Logic. Filled with a different lot. Us medicine residents are supposed to be in front. A space for eight beds but can accomodate sixteen. Sixteen sick patients. Chest pains, shortness of breath, palpitations. A young patient comes in. He has been bitten by a snake. His friend gave him the snake as a gift. As he was playing with it the snake recoiled and gave him a jab. “You were playing with the snake? Didn’t the snake give you jitters?”, I asked him. He just smiled away. Pleased to be bitten, now that amazed me. Rashid, our ER resident was more interested in the snake. He told me that he only watched National Geographic upon going home and had seen many a snakes. He asked the attendant if they had b